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THE FLOWER OF OUR EARTHLY HAPPINESS HAS BECOME THE 
OBJECT OF OUR HEAVENLY HOPE."' 



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The massy gates of Paradise are thrown 
Wide open; and forth come, in fragments wild, 
Sweet echoes of unearthly melody." 

Coleridge. 



" O dear, sweet, desirable child! How shall we part with all this 
goodness and virtue, without bitterness of sorrow and reluctancy? 

" God grant us grace to bless him for the graces he implanted in thee, 
— thy virtuous life, thy holy death; which, indeed, is the comfort of our 
souls." 

John Evelyn, 1685. 



" Yet, though thou wear'st the glory of the sky, 
Wilt thou not keep the same beloved name ; 
The same fair, thoughtful brow, and gentle eye, — 
Lovelier in heaven's sweet climate, yet the same? 



Bryant. 



HELEN RUTHVEN WATERSTON. 



<§rant, <§ ITorb ! %t, m all o»r gorrofos ^re apou eartlj, foe 
mag sieabfasilg look hjj to jjeaben, anb bg faiijj beljolb % glorg 
iljat sjjall be rtbealeb. 



at Naples, in Stalg, fcepartetr tijfe fLife, 

July 25, 1858, 
aged seventeen years, 

HELEN RUTHVEN, THE BELOVED AND ONLY DAUGHTER OF 
ROBERT AND ANNA WATERSTON, 

OF BOSTON, U.S.A.- 



When Faith and Love, which parted from thee never, 
Had ripened thy just soul to dwell with God, 
Meekly thou didst resign this earthly load 
Of death called life; which us from Life doth sever." 

Milton. 



JHnttortal 



HELEN RUTHVEN WATERSTON. 

BY THE REV. WILLIAM MOUNTFOED. 

(Published October, 1858.) 

She was far from her native country, and far from the 
sight of nearly all of her many friends. They had 
been looking for her eagerly and hopefully; but they 
were not to see her. On her leaving America, she was 
a child of a sweet temper, — affectionate and obedient. 
During her absence, she bloomed into a womanhood 
of much beauty and many graces, and into a charac- 
ter of great worth and high promise. Alas for her 
parents, whose only surviving child she was ! and alas 
for those many friends who had longed to behold her 
in the loveliness of that beauty of which they had only 
seen the bud, and for whom she died, — a lily in a dis- 
tant land ! 



6 A MEMORIAL OF 

Helen was born in Boston on the 6th of January, 
1841 ; and she was reared under the best influences of 
a New-England home. In April, 1856, she was taken 
by her parents to Europe. The whole of the following 
winter and spring was passed by her in Paris ; where 
she cheerfully submitted herself to the discipline of 
a school, which, for its strictness, might almost have 
been called conventual, only that it was Protestant. She 
attended the class for religious instruction, held at the 
Church of the Oratory by the Rev. Athanasius Coque- 
rel ; and profited so much as to have attained, though 
a foreigner, the most honorable position among her 
associates. Last winter, she was in Rome ; where she 
occupied herself with those pleasures which resemble 
studies, and with those studies which are so like plea- 
sures, — visiting works of art, and learning the great 
lessons of antiquity which there are illustrated by the 
Pantheon and the Coliseum, by the Arches of Titus and 
Constantine, and by those ruins which bear the names 
of Nero, Caracalla, and Hadrian. She enjoyed and 
improved herself much during her stay in the Eternal 
City : and there she proved that there was in her cha- 
racter an excellence which is very rare ; for she showed 
herself to be altogether unspoiled by the many atten- 



HELEN RUTHVEN WATERSTON. 7 

tions and the great admiration which were offered her 
there. So did last winter pass with her, — a season 
of improvement and great happiness. In the middle of 
April, she accompanied her parents to Naples ; and she 
reached that city apparently in perfect health. She en- 
joyed, in her quiet, earnest way, the wonderful neigh- 
borhood around her, — so beautiful in itself; so rich in 
the remains of the past ; and of such singular interest, 
as being liable, on any day, to be blighted from Vesu- 
vius. Just a week she had been at Naples, when sud- 
denly her health failed. Soon she was confined to her 
chamber ; and very soon, by her physician, her disease 
was pronounced to be mortal. 

Oh the anguish of her parents, and the grief of 
many hearts on her account, both in Europe and Ame- 
rica ! But, herself, she was not troubled. During the 
whole time, — while her last days were passing, and 
while the weary nights of sickness were wearing away, 
— she was calm, patient, and resigned ; full of faith 
and immortal hope. Simple and unaffected in her man- 
ners, of a sweet temper and disinterested conduct, pure 
in heart, well educated as to her mind, and altogether 
uninjured by the admiration of which she had become 
the object, — evidently she was possessed of a character 



8 A MEMORIAL OF 

of great goodness. But it was only as her earthly life 
was ending that she was known, even to her nearest 
friends, in all her worth. In the great, dark trial 
which had wrapped them all round, she was tenderly 
and unceasingly thoughtful for her parents ; and she 
sustained the spirits of her father and mother, being 
herself sustained from within. 

The last Sunday before her health had begun to de- 
cline, — being then at Naples, — she joined with some 
friends, who celebrated together the Lord's Supper. 
This was her first communion. Three days after this, 
began her last illness, — the last illness of this young 
believer. The words of Paul are an exact comment 
on it : " Death is swallowed up in victory. O Death ! 
where is thy sting % O Grave ! where is thy victory ] " 
Helen suffered much pain during her illness ; and, for 
several weeks, it was expected that every day would 
be her last. She did, as it were, die daily; but never 
for a moment, or by one word, was she otherwise than 
patient in her sufferings, and entirely submissive to the 
will of God. 

At last came a day, which was the one before her 
departure. On this day, she heard, or seemed to hear, 
sweet music ; and she asked, " Do you not hear the 



HELEN RUTHVEN" WATERSTON. 9 

music \ " And who knows but she did hear it ? Indeed, 
is it a thing unreasonable to suppose, that possibly a 
spirit may have some perception of the next world, just 
at that very time when it is departing from this % And 
why should it be a thing incredible, that a soul should 
grow more sensitive as the flesh is passing away, and 
should even hear the music of that world which always 
is around us, and which, perhaps, we all of us might 
sometimes know of, only that we live so much in our 
human clay, and so little in the pure and everlasting 
spirit % 

Helen breathed her last at half-past eight o'clock, 
on the morning of Sunday, July 25. She looked 
upwards ; and then, as though she saw into heaven, 
she exclaimed, — " How beautiful, how beautiful ! " 
These were her last words : "How beautiful, how 
beautiful ! " And so her spirit passed away, — onward 
and upward. 

This frail nature of ours, — so mortal, — woe, woe 
for it, only that it is immortal too. A death like that 
which is here recorded is a renewal of our faith ; and, 
with knowing of a soul over which death has no do- 
minion, our own souls quicken within us, and are made 
to feel themselves, their unearthly affinities and their 



10 A MEMORIAL OF 

immortal instincts. Remarkably was Helen both the 
victim and the conqueror of death. 

But yet, — but yet, — so young, so fair, so good, so 
much beloved, so full of promise, and so suddenly sum- 
moned ! All cheerful and happy as it was, still there 
was in this death a something peculiarly sad for those 
who were bereaved by it. A life so fair in its begin- 
ning, so hopeful in its future, and closed so suddenly ! 
Still, when we think of the storms which often sweep 
this world after the brightest, clearest morning, can we 
be otherwise than thankful, when, safe from every peril, 
a soul has gained its entrance into our Fathers house ? 
And some of us — when we remember what, in our 
younger days, we had hoped to be, and what yet we 
have failed to show ourselves — cannot but feel, that, 
even in the earliness of the great summons, there may 
be a high privilege, as well as some mystery of the 
Divine Goodness. 

She was born while it was winter, in New England ; 
and she died in the midst of summer, in the land of the 
olive, the orange, and the vine. And now, alive again, 
she sees the tree of life, with its various fruits ; and she 
walks in light, among the nations of the saved, in that 
city which has no need of sun or moon. 



HELEN RUTHVEN WATERSTON. 11 

And, now, let us trust that her surviving friends will 
be comforted in their bereavement, because they sorrow 
not as without hope. These lines have been inscribed 
on a stone in the Protestant cemetery at Naples. Let 
us join with the parents in their prayer: — 



Fold her, Father ! in thine arms : 
And let her henceforth be 

A messenger of love between 
Our human hearts and thee." 



Italy, Bagxi di Lucca, 
August, 1858. 



12 A MEMORIAL OF 



(Mmti from Wixllmm €. grganf, 



PUBLISHED IN HIS VOLUME ENTITLED " LETTERS FROM SPAIN. 



Some of the pleasantest as well as the saddest recol- 
lections of my present visit to Europe relate to this 
charming young person. It was at Heidelberg, a little 
more than a year ago, that I met Mr. Waterston, with 
his wife and daughter, — an only child. I confess, I 
felt a degree of pride in so magnificent a specimen 
of my countrywomen as this young lady presented, — 
uncommonly beautiful in person, with a dignity of pre- 
sence and manner much beyond her years, and a sweet- 
ness no less remarkable than the dignity. Wherever 
she went, it was easy to see that she was followed by 
looks of admiration. A further acquaintance with her 
showed that her intellectual and moral qualities were 
equal to her personal graces. Her mind was surpris- 
ingly mature for her time of life. She was kind, true, 



HELEN RUTHVEN WATERSTON. 13 

sympathetic, religious, and overflowing with filial affec- 
tion, — the most dutiful as well as the most beloved of 
daughters. 

After we left Heidelberg, we saw no more of her, 
until her parents, in April last, — after a winter's resi- 
dence in Rome, — brought her to Naples, apparently in 
full health, where we then were, and took lodgings 
in the Hotel Victoria, overlooking the beautiful bay. 
Just one week after their arrival, she was taken ill. 
She grew weaker and weaker ; bearing her sufferings 
with a patience so meek and saintly, that even the phy- 
sicians, familiar as they were with the sick-room and 
the death-bed, were melted into tears. At length, a 
little before the end, her mind began to wander, but in 
such a manner that it seemed as if she was admitted to 
a glimpse of the brighter world to which she was going : 
and she passed away in what might almost be taken for 
a beatific vision, — a happy life, closed by a happy 
death ; leaving her parents broken-hearted, but for the 
strong religious trust which supported them. 



" And he said, Go forth, and stand upon the mount before the Lord. 
And, behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the 
mountains, and brake in pieces the rocks; but the Lord was not in 
the wind: and, after the wind, an earthquake; but the Lord was not 
in the earthquake: and, after the earthquake, a fire; and, after the fire, 
a still small voice." — 1 Kings xix. 



15 



Extract 



More than two years had passed, and they had 
reached the last point of their intended tour. 

The parents stood with their treasure in the very 
Eden of the present world ; and here, under softened 
skies and among natural images, which might seem 
to repeat the features of Paradise, they found them- 
selves face to face with an appalling display of the 
destructive energies always hidden in the mountain 
which overshadows the Bay of Naples. 

Under skies lit at night by the flaming volcano, with 
a trembling earth beneath their feet, they were called 
to watch for the hour that was to divide the tenderest 
and purest of earthly relations. -Week after week, as 
their daughter's illness increased, her submission grew 
more touching. In the very flush of health and 



16 A MEMORIAL OF 

strength, calmly she relinquished all that is attractive 
in life ; and with tranquil faith, and the sweetest temper 
of mind, she met the summons to depart. Nothing but 
the love of her parents and friends seemed to check 
her earnest acquiescence in the call of her heavenly 
Father. When the last hour — so often threatened, so 
often brightening into delusive hope — arrived, she was 
rapt in visions of distant friends, who seemed added to 
those present : and, soothed by music which mortal 
ears could not partake, she gently passed from her 
beautiful earthly form ; leaving, in the desolate hearts 
of her parents, the only blessing which can be attached 
to such moments, — the example of her resignation, 
the remembrance of her virtues, and the deathless hope 
which looks forward to an eternal re-union. 

M. J. Q. 



HELEN RUTH VEX WATERSTON. 17 



Extract 



Quincy, Sept. 12, 1858. 

Constantly my thoughts have been with you during 
these last sad months. Now that the long suspense is 
over, I am utterly powerless to put in words my ever- 
recurring consciousness of personal affliction. ... I feel 
that peace is with you ; that the deep serenity of the 
innocent life, lifted out of the turbulence of earth, is* 
able to impart itself perhaps even more fully than be- 
fore. . . . Among the shifting throng of my thoughts, 
this is the view which oftenest returns to me : It 
seems in accordance with what we- best imagine of 
the Infinite, that when the trusting, loving, enduring 
powers of the soul have reached the extreme of hu- 
man expansion ; when the Searcher of hearts perceives 
the latent capability to meet triumphantly the sternest 
discipline of life, — that the actual conflict should be 
mercifully remitted, and the spirit, by laws of higher 
attraction, should rise at once to a nobler sphere of 
action. 

3 



18 A MEMORIAL OF 



It is, perhaps, well for me to allude to a few verses 
which you will receive with this letter. They simply 
represent the individual feelings that came to me on 
the fair Sunday morning when we first awoke to a 
sense of your loss. I recalled with intense vividness 
the visit I made to dear Helen at the school in Paris, — 
every look, every word, that passed : then her appear- 
ance under the Arcade of the Rue de Rivoli, where we 
parted, for ever, as it proved, on earth : then the last 
scene of all gradually grew before me ; as if there, too, 
I had been mysteriously present. 

I was much affected when I afterwards found that 
the dear child, in her last moments, actually thought 
me near her. 



J. P. Q. 



HELEN RUTHVEN WATERSTON. 19 



HELEN RUTHVEN WATERSTON. 



From the gay, godless city, where are carved, 

In cunning luxury, idolatries 

Baser than bulLor ibis; where the world 

Shakes all its bawbles, and, in festive reel, 

Banters away the gray old centuries, — 

From that sad, godless city forth I passed, 

And, with a father, visited the school 

That through the winter kept him from his child. 

And here the jesting weariness of things 
Fell seared and dry within me, as I heard 
The holy homage of a fresh young love 
Fall upon one who proudly cherished her ; 
For, though the chief affection rushed to him, 
Yet, present with a life in love so rich, 
Enough was gleaned to warm me unto prayer. 
A few weeks passed : the simple dress of school 
Had gayly blown to ribbon, lace, and silk ; 
And, in the cheerful bustle of the street, 
We flung from eye and hand a year's farewell. 
Yet seemed it sad, this sweetest womanhood 



20 A MEMORIAL OF 

Must deck itself in Fashion's scarlet plume, 

And harden down to coarse realities ; 

From whence, with broken charm, to strive again 

To mould the innocent face, where then it lay 

Pure as a planet sleeps within the lake. 

For, in mistrusting thought, I saw her swept 

Along the shallow whirl that Folly leads 

The maiden of her caste ; while every hand 

Sought to uplift her to the highest wave 

Crested in froth of elegant delights. 

Alas for angels 7 strength to bear her up, 

Lest those frail steps dash rudely on the stones ! 

I gazed and doubted : Christ, beholding, loved. 

The ocean chilled between us : the great Past, 
Blurred by the busy Present, shrunk away ; 
And the dear face, lost in the Paris street, 
Grew faint, and flickered on the memory. 
But all experience lives, all thoughts we touch, 
March, ever cloaked and silent, after us ; 
And at the magic of a voice or pen, 
Advancing, meet Earth's traveller face to face. 
And now, across the troubled ocean-leagues, 
The softened features of the school and street 
Returned to haunt me ; and those gentle traits, 
Shading to stillness, beamed mysterious light, 
As all her ebbing soul at times arose, 
And, sweet affection lending fitful strength, 



HELEN RUTHVEN WATERSTON. 21 

Brimmed through its customed channels to the world. 

For, at such moments, all the power of faith, 

Of love and prayer, and generous thought of friends, — 

Enough to spread through acts of a long life, — 

Lay heaped in bright profusion on her face ; 

As if the sparkling wealth of summer suns, 

Hoarded to bless the seasons as they prayed, 

Should fall in fullest lustre, and create 

From one rich day a year's vitality. 

Those waited near who sought to pour on her 
Their fuller earthly life : but, while they watched, 
The haze of sense, that modestly repulsed 
The deep attraction of the Pure without, 
Swept like an anthem from her ; and new birth 
Flowed from her presence, in such earnest force 
As broke through all the tenderness that love 
Gathered about her. Thus she went to Christ. — 
Loosed from her bonds, to her the Master stands 
Freed from the shackles of a thousand creeds ; 
And the mysterious sympathies that flash 
From mind to mind — those deeper messages 
Than can find utterance from the fluent lip — 
Cleave through the void between us, to bear down 
Her grace of patience and the peace of God. 

J. P. QUINCY. 

Aug. 22, 1858. 



" thou kind Heaven! keep, keep what thou hast taken; 

And, with our treasure, keep our hearts on high ; 
The spirit meek, and yet by pain unshaken; 

The faith, the love, the lofty constancy. 
Guide us where these are with our dear child flown: 
They were of thee; and thou hast claimed thine own." 



Extracts from Pri&ate ^Letters* 



" How gentle and how good a child 
She was, wc know full well ; 
And dearer to her parents' hearts 
Than our weak words can tell." 



25 



Brief lExtracts 



LETTERS BY HELEN'S GRANDPARENTS. 



August 24, 1858. 



I need not say how deeply I have sympathized in all 
your sufferings. . . . Resignation to the Divine Will is as 
wise as it is supporting ; for, after all the strength 
which philosophy pretends to give, in these severe 
trials of the heart, confidence in the wisdom and good- 
ness of our heavenly Father is the only substantial 
resource for consolation. The life of your daughter, 
though short, has been, beyond the common lot, both 
happy and instructive. Considering the events of this 
life, and our conduct in relation to them, as an intended 
preparation for the privileges and enjoyments of heaven, 
she has been highly blessed, both by their number and 



26 A MEMORIAL OF 

variety, and by the evidence she gave, during life, of 
her appreciation and improvement of them. 

" She was a pearl, too pure on earth to dwell, 
And waste its splendor in this mortal shell." 

Man's life, be it short or long, is but as a dream. 

" Alike, in God's all-seeing eye, 
The infant's day, the patriarch's age." 

That her fate was not caused or hastened by any 
indiscretion or external accident, but was undoubtedly 
the effect of the original conformation of her system ; 
that her destiny was thus fixed by the hand of the 
Creator, — is a just source of acquiescence, as it is an 
evidence of a long-considered purpose in the Divine 
Mind, and a settled determination of his will. 

At my period of life, I feel daily my approximation 
to that " bourn " from whence there is no return. Of 
course, while yet permitted to remain in this fast-vanish- 
ing state, the desire daily grows stronger on me, as an 
old mart, to collect about me those in whom my affec- 
tions are concentrated, and in the consciousness of 
whose presence the chief sources of my happiness con- 
sist. This sad trial has naturally increased my desire 



HELEN RUTHVEN WATERSTON. 27 

to see you, and to have the chain of our family circle 
again united, notwithstanding one of its most cherished 
links has been thus mysteriously broken. 

J. Q. 



August 24, 1858. 

Your letters were received from Naples of date July 
31, and were read with many tears. . . . 

In God's dispensations towards us, however afflictive 
for the time, all is ordered in love. Even under the 
severest affliction, let us recognize his loving hand. 
Greatly as we mourn, and cannot help mourning, at 
this trying dispensation, yet, in connection with it, we 
have much consolation. Our dear Helen is safe, — 
safe from all the trials and temptations to which she 
might have been subjected. We can see but a short 
distance, and even that imperfectly. The end from the 
beginning is known only to the Supreme Ruler. What 
we cannot understand now, faith in Him gives us per- 
fect assurance that we shall hereafter perceive to have 
been ordered in infinite goodness. 

Let us render thanks unto God, that we have been 
permitted for so long a time to witness her growing 



28 A MEMORIAL OF 

virtues and her many beautiful traits of character. 
Lovely she was through her life, and never more re- 
markably so than during her illness and in her departure. 
Now, from the regions of perpetual happiness, she calls 
upon us, saying, " Come up hither." What are all the 
attractions of this world, compared to heavenly bliss % 
Those who are dear to each other will meet to part no 
more for ever. It is a delightful thought. May it ani- 
mate us in our Christian course ; that, when the hour 
of our departure comes, we may, like our beloved 
Helen, exclaim, as our spirit takes its flight, " Beautiful ! 
oh, how beautiful ! " and thus enter into the joy of our 

Lord. 

r. w. 

Sept. 21, 1858. 

I cannot bear that the least expression of my grief 
should for a moment add to yours; yet neither can I 
refrain from saying, How truly I loved our dear Helen ! 
and how greatly we rejoiced in the thought of having 
her again with us ! She was, indeed, our hearts' trea- 
sure ; but her heavenly Father, who knoweth best, has 
seen fit to transplant her to a more congenial clime. 



HELEN RUTHVEN WATERSTON. 29 

The only solace now is, that, in a little while, we shall 
go to her, and meet a ready welcome. 

Her sweet and lovely countenance, the index of her 
pure mind, will never be effaced from our memory. 
She is free from all sorrow and suffering. We will 
endeavor to imitate her many virtues. The beauty of 
her character — her patience, her submission, and her 
last sayings on earth — we shall never forget. 

h. w. 



The light of her pure life went down 

As sinks behind the hill 
The glory of a setting star, — 

Clear, beautiful, and still." 



31 



Extracts from $rtbate iLctters, 



England, Stratford on Avon, 

Aug. 11, 1858. 



We share largely in the grief which this calamity 
has brought upon you ; yet, knowing your daughter 
as we did, we share also in the consolation, so dear 
to you both, that she was prepared in an eminent 
degree for the great Transfiguration which awaits the 
good in another life. For the wound inflicted on your 
spirits by so great a calamity, there can be no balm 
like this. Perhaps the early unfolding of her mental 
powers, and the early ripeness of her moral and reli- 
gious nature, were presages that she was soon to be 
called to a better world ; and indications that the disci- 
pline of life had, for her, accomplished its end, and was 
no more needed. 

W. C. BRYANT. 



" Her tears are past; her crown is won; 
The immortal wreath is now her own : 
We hear by faith the chant begun 
Of joy around the eternal throne." 



33 



Jrcmt $) elm's Jl™ *^ rfwnb, anb &eadjcr in iljc Huabag Skjjool, 



THROUGH MANY YEARS. 



My remembrances of Helen are chiefly of her child- 
hood. For six years, she was under my care at the 
Sunday school : and, during that time, I had ample 
opportunity to know her well ; and to know her was to 
love her. From her earliest childhood, she was deeply 
interested in spiritual things. I remember, when her 
dear little brother was called away, how full of beauty 
were her thoughts of a future life. I can see her deep, 
thoughtful eye, and serious, earnest look, as she con- 
versed respecting it ; and the feeling and pathos with 
which she repeated the beautiful hymns she had com- 
mitted to memory. 

She listened so attentively, and replied to my ques- 
tions with such correctness and intelligence, that it was 



34 A MEMORIAL OF 

a pleasure both to see and to hear her. She loved the 
Sunday school ; and it did my heart good to look upon 
her bright, happy face, always beaming with kindness 
and love. 

At our sewing-circle for the benefit of the poor, she 
was ever warmly interested. I can now recall the de- 
light with which she held up a garment she had just 
finished, exclaiming, "Will not some little girl be glad 
to have such a nice dress ] " She was full of affection ; 
ever thoughtful of the feelings and claims of others ; 
always ready and anxious to do what she could to make 
those around her happy. 

She was remarkable for her simplicity and singleness 
of heart. Though the central object of interest to so 
many minds ; though admired and caressed, by her 
many friends, from earliest childhood, — she yet re- 
tained, through all, that beautiful simplicity and uncon- 
sciousness which is so rare and attractive. During a 
severe illness, I was informed, by those who attended 
her, how free she was from selfishness ; how fearful of 
wearying others ; how grateful for every attention. As 
flowers and other tokens of affection were brought to 
her with messages of interest, she constantly remarked, 
" How very kind, how good, every one is to me ! " 



HELEN BUTHVEN WATEESTON. 35 

She was very fond of little children, and also enjoyed 
the society of those in mature life ; adapting herself, in 
the most simple and natural manner, to all around her. 
I have heard from others of her remarkable develop- 
ment in beauty of person, mind, and soul, during her 
residence abroad; that the bud of early promise ex- 
panded into a rich and most lovely flower. 

It seems appropriate, that, when heart and soul were 
thus early ripened and matured for the spiritual world, 
she should be freed from the cares and sufferings of 
life, and be permitted to enter at once the home pre- 
pared by her heavenly Father. Looked upon rightly, 
her lot was, in many respects, peculiarly happy. Her 
life had been almost unclouded by sorrow ; and, with- 
out tasting any bitter trials, she has gone to rejoice 
for ever in the presence of her God and Saviour, and 
the spirits of the just made perfect. In the words of 
the favorite hymn which I remember she loved to 
repeat, — 

" She has gone to heaven before us ; 
But she turns and waves her hand, 
Pointing to the glories o'er us 
In that happy spirit-land. 



36 A MEMORIAL OF 

May our footsteps never falter 
In the path that she has trod ! 

May we worship at the altar 
Of the great and living God ! 

Lord, may angels watch above us, 
Keep us all from error free ; 

May they guard and guide and love us, 
Till, like her, we go to thee ! " 



E. A. J. 



HELEN RUTH YEN WATERSTON. 37 



Extract 



Burlington, Vt., 1860. 

Helen was between eight and nine years of age when 
placed under my care. Her fine, intelligent face ; her 
appearance of perfect health, and confiding, childlike 
manners, — made a most favorable impression on me 
when I first saw her. As I became acquainted with 
her, I perceived many characteristics not commonly 
marked at her age. She possessed an unusual degree 
of reverence. Voice and eye manifested her recogni- 
tion of any sacred thought or noble sentiment ; and the 
poetry she selected, and loved to recite, was remarkable 
for a child of her age, and always recited in such a 
manner as made it evident that she understood and 
sympathized with the sentiments expressed. 

Moore's lines, " The turf shall be my fragrant 
,shrine ; " Wordsworth's " Skylark ; " and the verses by 
George Herbert, beginning, " Sweet day ! so cool, so 
calm, so bright ! " — were among her favorite poems. 
The last poem she repeated to me was Wordsworth's 



38 A MEMORIAL OF 

" Lucy ; " and under it, in my copy of " Poetry for 
Home and School," there is written, in her own dear 
hand, « H. R. W. 5 July 2, 1852." She was a very 
conscientious child in the performance of all her du- 
ties ; very industrious, docile, and affectionate. I do 
not think, at that time, her facility of acquisition was 
beyond the average of her class ; but any one who 
came in contact with her in the relation of teacher 
must have perceived harmonies and proportions in her 
intellectual as well as moral nature, and a delicacy and 
refinement of taste and feeling, which were very un- 
common, and which make the after-development in 
both, which I was not permitted to see, no matter of 
surprise to me. She was a very pleasant child in all 
her school relations ; ever cheerful and happy ; entirely 
free from that waywardness, irritability, and variability 
which it is so difficult for a teacher to deal with nicely 
and effectually. 

The void in your heart and home must be deep in- 
deed. Yet what precious consolations are yours ! Grief 
must often be swallowed up in thanksgiving, and the 
spirit of heaviness put on the garment of praise. 

m. r. w. 



HELEN RUTHVEN WATERSTON. 39 



JFrom tlje luntr jMentr, 



WHO, WHEN THOSE OF HER OWN FAMILY WERE OBLIGED TO LEAVE NAPLES, 

REMAINED TO SHAKE THE CARES, SORROWS, AND BLESSINGS OF THE 

LAST WEEKS OF HELEN'S EARTHLY LIFE. 



Berlin, Oct. 7, 1858. 

. . . This life can never bring to me any thing more 
beantiful than those precions weeks passed by Helen's 
bedside. Away from her, we felt all the bitterness of 
grief; but, in her sacred presence, we only knew that 
an angel yet a while lingered with us, to bless our hearts 
ere she winged her radiant way to a fairer shore. The 
more I think of it, the more celestial seems that dar- 
ling child, and the more grateful I feel to the heavenly 
Father who brought me within her influence. 

s. H. 



One by one, we miss the voices which we loved so well to hear; 
One by one, the kindly faces in the shadow disappear. 

One, whose feet the thorns have wounded, passed that barrier, and came back 
With a glory on his footsteps, lighting yet the dreary track. 
Boldly enter where he entered. All that seems but darkness here, 
When thou once hast passed be} r ond it, haply shall be crystal clear." 

W. C. Bryant. 



41 



jfrcm tfje Belobefc pfjgstctan 



WHOSE CARE AND KINDNESS HAD FOLLOWED HELEN FROM CHILDHOOD, AND 

WHOSE NAME WAS OFTEN UPON HER LIPS DURING HER ILLNESS IN 

NAPLES. SINCE THEN, HE ALSO HAS GONE; DEPARTING 

THIS LIFE, NOV. 19, 1859. 



I have heard with admiration of Helen's patience 
and Christian resignation. She was, indeed, ready for 
another stage of progress. She has gone, bright and 
beautiful, to the land of spirits. Truly of her may we 
say,— 

" 'Tis ever thus with creatures heavenly fair ; 
Too finely framed to bide the brunt more earthly natures bear. 
A little while they dwell with us, — blest ministers of love, — 
Then spread the wings we had not seen, and seek their home above." 

Your daughter was prepared for a heavenly home; 
and now, instead of being an earthly companion, she 
has become your angelic friend. m. s. p. 



Where hast thou been, beloved ? 

What hast thou seen? 
What vision fair? what glorious life? 

Where hast thou been ? 

Not dead, not sleeping, not even gone, 

But present still, 
And waiting for the coming hour 

Of God's sweet will." 



Andover, 1858. 



43 



Extracts from ^rtfaate 3Lctter5. 



Andover, 1858. 

Dear Friends, 

I only urge, as my apology for speaking to you now, 
that I am writing on the anniversary of the day in 
which my beautiful and good boy was brought lifeless 
over the threshold where he had never brought any 
thing but gladness. By this remembrance, I feel that 
I have a right to stretch a hand of fellowship to you, 
over whom such a cloud of darkness is hanging. 

We were startled by the report of Helen's illness, 
and mourn over the sudden blight of what seemed too 
lovely to die. But I think we deceive ourselves with 
the sound of that fatal word. Were we to visit the 
green-house from whence a nobleman selected the chief 
ornament for his mansion, we should not say, when we 
noticed a plant of rare beauty and development, " This 
seems made to remain here, it is so lovely." Rather 
should we say, " This is so lovely, it must soon be called 



44 A MEMORIAL OF 

for." Is there not a mournful charm in the feeling, that 
we have reared a perfect flower for God's garden ] We 
cannot bear to lose it ; and yet we know that it is better 
there than here. " There is no death : what seems so is 
transition." Appropriate to the view which Christianity 
opens to us, the apostle says, " He hath abolished death, 
bringing life and immortality to light." 

So fair Helen seemed at our last interview in Paris, — 
so good, so happy, and so happiness-giving, — I cannot 
believe that all this is finally withdrawn from earth. 

May our heavenly Father mercifully grant to you 
strength according to your day ! Upon Him let us wait 
in childlike faith. 

H. B. STOWE. 



HELEN RUTHVEN WATERSTON. 45 



Brussels, Aug. 20, 1858. 



Life has many sorrows. They are to me the natural 
signals of its onward passage. But there are those, 
which, while they mark, arrest its progress. They 
smite its course like a hurricane ; and, lo ! the sail is 
beaten, and the faithful vessel sinks. I have long- 
watched the progress of your happy bark, and rejoiced 
to see it passing over the sunny sea. How lightly it 
was wafted on ! It was guided by experience ; it car- 
ried with it youth, beauty, and affection ; it breathed 
infinite music through the air. But, when I saw the 
cloud settling over it, I knew it was doomed. Where 
are the white sails now % where, that airy motion 1 

I have no words to express what I feel. Great sor- 
rows must be left to God. I can only pray for you, — 
pray that the hand which has chastened may soothe 
you ; that it may oifer peace as it has brought desola- 
tion. 



46 A MEMORIAL OF 



Your apartments, while in Brussels, are very near to 
me. There, as it were but yesterday, I went to see 
you. I distinctly remember that charming youthful face, 
which threw light across the pathway of life. How 
utterly we lose ourselves when we try to comprehend 
the ways of God ! I cannot understand ; nay, I am 
disposed to murmur. But let us wait. Very recently, 
I was conversing with a lady who has been afflicted 
far beyond the lot of most persons ; and I said to her, 
" The day may come when you will see that all this 
has been for the best." — " Doubtless," she replied, — 
" doubtless ; but in another world." Since then, she 
has gone to that other world. Let us wait. The 
strange mystery will be clear when all shall be light 
and justice everywhere. 

j. g. c. 



HELEN RUTHVEN WATERSTON. 47 



Stratford on Avon, July, 1858. 



We can comprehend, in a measure, the extent of your 
terrible affliction at parting with such a treasure; for 
we knew, and wondered not at, your joy and pride in 
the possession. . . . From what we saw of her, we can 
well imagine the rest ; and the consolation we offer is 
tears of sympathy : for at present it is hard to see the 
light shining through the darkness ; but soon it will 
come. Even now, what a rare privilege it is to have 
such a sorrow, such a remembrance, and such a hope ! 
You must look back, not with regret, at the years 
brightened by her presence, and keep her sweet image 
with you for ever. 

When you arrive in England, come directly to us. 
We will talk, or we will be silent. Come, and see the 
friends who will always love to think upon you and 
your dear child. 



c. F. 



48 A MEMORIAL OF 



Bristol, England, Red-Lodge School, Aug. 3. 

Your beloved child's departure was such as to call 
forth deep gratitude, and to enshrine her for ever in 
our remembrance. 

I am most happy that Helen had so much pleasure 
in her visit to England, and with us at Bristol. 

Nature's grief must be deep ; so also may it be holy 

and reverent. To me, sorrow is a more natural element 

than joy; at least, than the world's joy. The sorrow 

sent by the Father brings a peace which the world 

knoweth not of. 

m. c. 



Ireland, Vale of Avoca, Aug. 10. 

We have often thought and spoken of your dear 
child. I shall never forget her. I know not what to 
say, every thing sounds so cold ; but I am sure you 
will understand that I do not feel so. Most gladly 
would I do or say any thing to comfort you. I hope 
you have been able to feel that it is a Father's hand 
which has stricken you. Oh, what a difference does 



HELEN RUTHVEN WATERSTON. 49 

the knowledge of that make, even when first the blow 
comes ! She is safe for ever with her Saviour ; for we 
know that she was his child. The last year has brought 
much suffering. I do not desire a long life here, if only 
I am getting ready for that life to come, on which so 
many dear ones have already entered. 

l. c. 



The Alhambra, Spain, 5th September, 1858. 

The sad news which has just reached us has called 
forth our keenest sympathies. The long-dreaded blow 
has at length fallen : all that is left is memory and 
hope, and that blessed certainty, which the Christian 
heart rejoices in, that your dear child is for ever happy. 
Whatever can console under such an affliction is granted 
to you. In the peaceful ending, and in her consolatory, 
beautiful last words, your dear lost one, in death as in 
life, has cheered your fond hearts. Blessed, indeed, are 
those who, in the midst of such deep affliction, have 
such consoling memories. 

j. w. F. 

7 



50 A MEMORIAL OF 



Rue des Champs Elysees, Paris, 

Aujt. 2, 1858. 



Sharing, as Ave do, profoundly your grief, I trust 
we shall not do wrong in expressing our heartfelt 
sympathy, in this hour of trial, at the loss of your 
most lovely daughter. The sad announcement has 
just met our eye, and caused us the deepest anguish. 
To know your daughter was to love her ; and, during 
our residence together at Paris, we had many oppor- 
tunities of observing the beauty of her character. 
On hearing that she was ill at Naples, we felt much 
anxiety; but trusted, by the blessing of Providence, 
she would soon be restored to perfect health. It was, 
therefore, a great shock to us, when we read the af- 
fecting paragraph recording her departure. She was 
indeed one of the purest spirits ever summoned to an 
early participation of the joys of heaven. Believe me, 
we shall always cherish with fondest affection the 
memory of your dear and never-to-be-forgotten daugh- 
ter. God grant the comfort of his Holy Spirit in this 
sad trial, and, in his own good time, send consolation 
to your afflicted hearts ! h. e. 



HELEN RUTH YEN WATERSTON. 51 



Our knowledge of what Helen was to her friends 
brought a realization of what she must have been as a 
daughter. No words can express all we have felt. 
She was one whom old and young could alike love ; 
shedding around her such an angelic influence, that 
none could see her often without feeling it. She will 
ever be associated with our travels ; and we shall never 
recall her without rejoicing that we knew and loved 
so pure and lovely a spirit, — a spirit early called to 
regions where it had always seemed to dwell. 

C. L. S. 



I shall ever remember the scenes we enjoyed to- 
gether in and about Rome. Well do I recall Helen's 
quiet cheerfulness. Words, by her even casually 
spoken, were enough to show the faith which was 
the fountain of all that was good and beautiful in 
her character. A spirit has been given back to its 
Saviour, worthy to be received among his angels. Full 
of instruction will be her memory to those young com- 
panions who are left to fight the battle of life which 
she has so early won. w. a. 



52 A MEMORIAL OF 

Rome, 1860. 

Ah. me ! how these picturesque streets, with their 
black shadows and golden lights, recall to me that 
blooming creature, who, whatever side of the street she 
walked, took the sunshine with her ! — the Helen of so 
many memories, and all so pure and beautiful; lifting 
us out of our worldliness, and petty cares and interests, 
into that atmosphere of ideal grace and sweetness in 
which she seemed to move. e. h. a. 



Rome, 1860. 
Often does the remembrance of your dear Helen 
come before me, bringing always a deep feeling of 
thankfulness that we were allowed the inestimable 
privilege of knowing and loving her in Rome. Such 
an influence as hers is invaluable here, where so many 
temptations to blindness and forgetfulness of one's duty 
are joined to such wondrous opportunities of mental 
inprovement. That gentle, loving, yet firm nature ; 
that beautiful face ; that highest principled character 
and perfect disposition, — were never lent to us in vain : 
and the fault is our own, if their memory does not 
serve as a guardian angel, helping to keep us ever in 
the right path. e. t. h. 



HELEN RUTHVEN WATERSTON. 53 



Sept. 13, 1858. 



You know best what I have lost in her ; what a kind 
and constant companion she was to me ; and how she 
shared the pleasures and anxieties I experienced during 
our happy journeyings together. She was like a de- 
voted sister. 

Her sunny disposition, her devoted kindness, her 
mere presence, made all love her, and look forward to 
meeting her with pleasure. In your home, — which I 
shared for a time, — the whole sweetness, purity, and 
nobility of her character shed its happiest influence ; 
and I loved and admired her the more that it was so. 

I. A. 

Cambridge. 



54 A MEMORIAL OF 



Extract from a ILetter 



WRITTEN BY HELEN TO A YOUNG FRIEND, AND FOUND UNFINISHED IN HER 

PORTFOLIO. 



Naples, Italy, Sunday, April 25, 1858. 

I longed to tell you how deeply I sympathized with 
you all in the trial of last summer. Nothing in the 
world can be more touching than the death of children. 
My mother felt all that your sister and yourself must 
have suffered ; for you remember how our little Robert 
was taken away when he was just such an angel- 
blossom. But why should we regret it] They have 
both been saved from all earthly harm and temptation ; 
and their pure spirits have risen to that Saviour who 
said, " Suffer little children to come unto me." 

I should have replied to your letter earlier ; but our 
last days in Rome were over-occupied : and now I sit 



HELEN RUTHVEN WATERSTON. 55 

by my open window on this lovely Sunday morning, 
and look out upon one of the loveliest scenes in the 
world, with the blue Mediterranean rippling up in this 
beautiful bay. 

Our visit to Italy is fast coming to an end, and we 
are 



The pen was here laid down, — never to be resumed. Helen was 
then in apparent health. This fragment, written only two days before 
her illness, was not seen till it came as a legacy, — a direct word of 
consolation from herself, when consolation was most needed. 



" To some the thought of death is terrible : 
... To her it was not 
So much even as the lifting of a latch ; 
Only a step into the open air, 
Out of a tent already luminous 
With light that shone through its transparent walls.' 



56 A MEMORIAL OF 



\m is a JTmti> feljere §*autg tamtot fabe." 



" There is a land where beauty cannot fade, 

Nor sorrow dim the eye ; 
Where love shall never droop nor be dismayed, 

And none shall ever die. 

Where is that land ? — oh ! where ? 

For we would hasten there. 

Tell us : we fain would go ; 
For we are wearied with a heavy woe. 
The beautiful have left us all alone ; 
The true, the tender, from our path have gone ! 

Oh, guide us with thy hand 
To that blest land ! » 

" Friend, thou must trust in Him who trod before 
The desolate paths of life ; 
Must bear in meekness, as he meekly bore, 
Sorrow and pain and strife. 
Think how the Son of God 
Those thorny paths hath trod ; 



HELEN RUTHVEN WATERSTON. 57 

Think how he longed to go, 
Yet tarried out for us the appointed woe ; 
Think of his weariness in places dim, 
Where no man comforted nor cared for him ; 
Think of the blood-like sweat 
• With which his brow was wet : 
Yet how he prayed, unaided and alone, 
In that great agony, * Thy will be done ! ' 
Do not despair : 
Christ, from his heaven of heavens, will hear thy prayer." 



58 A MEMORIAL OF 



3Ltfe Eternal 



Complain not that the way is long: 

What road is weary that leads there ? 

But let the angel take thy hand, 
And lead thee up the misty stair; 

And then, with beating heart, await 

The opening of the Golden Gate." 



Do we not err in disconnecting this life from the 
next % — in limiting so constantly our view to the 
narrow horizon of time ] What is that which men 
call death but a point between two lives ! Nay, what 
is it but a circumstance in an unbroken life, — the 
mortal putting on immortality ? When those whom we 
love depart, we weep over the dust, while that for 
which we weep rejoices in Heaven. Until we have 
learned to associate Heaven with our daily life, making 
it a bright reality, a cheerful and a familiar thought, 
the departure both of the old and the young must seem 
shrouded in gloom. When we have confidence in the 
all-wise God, and a perfect trust in that Saviour whom 



HELEN RUTHVEN WATERSTON. 59 

he has sent ; when we have acquired a firm and fixed 
belief in the rich fulness of those promises, connected 
both with this life and the life to come, — then the ter- 
ror of death will pass away, and the glory of the 
celestial world will appear. Thus indeed shall death 
be swallowed up in victory. Called to depart from 
this mansion of our Father's house, if we are but duly 
prepared, — 

" We bow our heads 
At going out, and enter straight 
Another golden chamber of the King's, 
Larger than this we leave, and lovelier." 

The sorrow which we feel when those whom we 
love are permitted the privilege to enter there (only 
a little before us, it may be) will no longer be selfish, 
but softened and hallowed ; a sorrow not of darkness 
or despair, but of resignation and love and faith. 

r. c. w. 



60 A MEMORIAL OF 



3Ltfe in fficatfj* 



" Unto her is Paradise opened." — Esdkas. 

" She hath received a glorious kingdom, and a beautiful crown from the Lord' 
hand." — Wisdom of Solomon. 



The veil has dropped. Her spirit now, 
Intense with life, hath soared above ; 
And dwelleth where the seraphs bow, 
And sing their holy hymns of love. 
The seed hath sprung into a tree, 
The flower hath burst its bud, the immortal soul is free. 



Oh ! death is full of life. Nought dies 
But that which should. Earth takes its own, 
That the ethereal may arise, 
And dwell by the eternal throne. 
Death is the full outshining light 
Of that unending morn which knows no night. 



HELEN RUTHVEN WATERSTON. Gl 

Gaze on that form. Nay, lift thine eye, 
And gaze above. She is not here : 
She hath arisen to worlds on high, 
And dwelleth in a purer sphere. 
This frame of dust she hath laid down, 
To gain a robe of light, and a celestial crown. 

The veil has dropped. Her inward eye 
Has seen the mysteries of God ; 
And onward, through the star-paved sky, 
'Mid heaven's bright glory, she has trod. 
Angels around their joyous notes prolong, 
While her sweet voice unites in their triumphant song. 

R. c. w. 



God only knows how he apportions to each one that which is best, 
and why he sets such unequal limits to our life. It is utterly inscru- 
table to men why it is that some are removed hence so soon, and others 
left to toil and suffer on for a long while in this troublous life. We 
must therefore adore, in all things, the kindness and love of God towards 
man, and not think hardly of his allotments. We have but given the 
child back to Him who lent her. Her life has not been extinguished: it 
is only transfigured into a better. The earth has not hid our beloved 
one: Heaven has received her. Let us wait a little, and we shall be 
with her whom we mourn, and long for. The time of separation will not 
be long, since we are all on the way. If she has finished the journey 
sooner, yet we are all accomplishing it. May we also, by purity and 
simplicity of heart, be prepared for that rest which is the portion of 
children in Christ ! — St. Basil of Ccesarea, A.D. 370. 



63 



© Blesse* ffiijifo 



blessed child ! shall we repine that Death 
Over thy young and lovely frame had power ? 
In yon bright land, love never perisheth, 
Hope may not mock, nor grief the heart devour. 
The Beautiful are round thee. Thou dost keep 
Within the Eternal Presence, and no more 
Mayst death or pain or separation dread : 

Thy bright eyes cannot weep, 
Nor they with whom thou art thy loss deplore ; 
For ye are of the living, not the dead. 

Thou dweller with the Unseen, who hast explored 

The immense unknown; thou to whom Death and Heaven 

Are mysteries no more ; whose soul is stored 

With knowledge for which man hath vainly striven, — 

Beloved child ! oh, when shall we lie down 

With thee beneath fair trees that cannot fade ? 

When from immortal rivers quench our thirst ? 

Life's journey speedeth on ; 
Yet, for a little while, we walk in shade : 
Anon, by death, the cloud is all dispersed ; 
Then o'er the hills of heaven Eternal Day shall burst ! 



11 The harvest must be whenever the Son of man shall send forth his 
reapers to gather us in. The little child, that, without one questioning 
thought or fear, resigns itself into their hands, though but an opening 
bud, is gathered into the harvest of the Lord. The young girl, who, 
through some mysterious sympathy with them, or some strange moni- 
tion to the soul, seems to hear the sound of their coming from afar, 
and, without apprehension or surprise, composes herself for the solemn 
change, and in perfect trust leaves all she loved on earth, goes already 
ripe for the harvest." 

Morison : Notes on the Gospels. 



65 



<Sije foas tbtn set in ffiljitoljoolr, 



The following lines, written and published many years since, appear now to have 
had within them somewhat of a mysterious foreshadowing. 



She was even yet in childhood ; but she seemed 
Wasting in strength, like a half-opened bud 
Bowing upon its stem. She lay at rest, 
Her young heart leaning with a perfect faith 
Upon the word of God ; and thus her eye 
Shone with such inward light, and her pale lips 
Moved with such smiles, that even those who wept 
Felt in their inmost hearts a thrill of joy. 

With what a marvellous vigor can the soul 
Put forth its hidden strength, looking at Death 
As at an Angel from the courts of God ! 
And with what beauty, at the closing hour, 
Will Childhood's sweet affections blossom out ! 

9 



66 A MEMORIAL OF 

There she lay, peaceful as if in slumber ; 

A thoughtful calmness resting on her brow, 

And the long silken lashes of her eyes 

Pressed meekly to each other ; while her heart 

Seemed musing upon things that were to come, 

Or raised in silent worship. All was still : 

There came no sound upon the summer air, 

Except the bird's faint warble, or the voice 

Of the low-murmuring stream. Her pulse had stopped, 

And those who gathered round leaned slowly o'er 

To see if yet she breathed : when suddenly 

She started in her bed upright, spread out her arms, 

And fixing upon space her kindling eyes, 

As if she saw her glorious home in heaven, — 

" How beautiful, how beautiful ! " she cried ; 

And, sinking on her pillow, passed away. 

R. c. w. 



HELEN RUTHVEN WATERSTON. 67 



Italy, Baths of Lucca, 

Aug. 9, 1858. 



Had I a loss like yours, I think not improbably that 
I should be more conscious of a holy triumph than of 
bereavement. Alas ! when I remember the weakness 
and sinfulness of our hearts ; and when I think what 
so often men and women become by being exposed to 
the world ; and when, too, I call to mind the calamities 
of existence, against which no goodness and no social 
position are a safeguard, — I feel that almost among the 
angels it may be reason for congratulation and great 
joy, when the heavens are ascended by a soul which has 
lived long enough on earth to learn its better lessons, 
but which has passed from it, upwards and onwards, 
without knowing any thing of sin, except the shadow 
it casts on the world. 

WM. MOUNTFORD. 



68 A MEMORIAL OF 



Per la JWorte 



SIGNORINA ELENA WATERSTON. 



ODE. 

Ella e spenta, della terra 
Ha deposto il fragil velo, 
Era nata per il cielo, 
Ed il ciel chiamolla a se. 

Del malor che lento lento 
Le consunse il fior degli anni 7 
Dei di ? scorsi negli affanni 
Ha ottenuta la merce. 

Vieni, Elena ! a lei cantava 
Lieto un coro di celesti ; 
Lascia il suol ch' e* patria a mesti ; 
Vieni al regno del Signor. 



HELEN RUTHVEN WATERSTON. 69 



^Translation of tl)e foregoing ©be, 



WHICH WAS RECEIVED AT NAPLES ON THE MOKNING OF JULY 26, 1858. 



She has vanished ! 
Withdrawn is the fragile earthly veil. 
Born for Heaven, Heaven has called her to itself. 

By illness that slowly withered the flower of youth, 
By days passed in pain, she has gained the reward. 

" Come, Helen ! " sang to her the heavenly choir, rejoicing ; 
" Quit the soil that is the country of the sorrowful ; 
Come to the kingdom of the Lord ! " 



[iife us Still. 



Thou art with us still 
In thought and deed. Yes, thou art with us here, 

To sanctify the will, 
To soothe each grief, and calm each idle fear. 

At the soft sunset-hour, 
When evening splendors melt along the sky, 

We feel thy hallowing power 
To kindle faith, and raise the heart on high. 



<S most glorious anb eber-blesseb #ob ! in foljose presence is ful- 
ness of jog, ana at toljose rigljt lianb are pleasures for ebermore ; folio 
%ougjj tljg belobeb Hon jjast obercome beaijj, anb openeb unto us % 
gates of eberlasthtg life : <§rant unto us a perfect acquiescence in tljg 
bibine foill; anb mag tljat ntace folncjj passet|j unberstanbing be our 
support in ijjis life, anb our portion for eber ! 



Naples. — 1860. 



INSCRIBED TO ROBERT C WATEESTOX. 



BY JOHN G. WHITTIER. 



A MEMORIAL OF 

NAPLES. — 1860. 

INSCRIBED TO ROBERT C. WATERSTON. 
BY JOHN G. WHITHER. 



I give thee joy ! I know to thee 
The dearest spot on earth must be 
Where sleeps thy loved one by the summer sea ; 

Where, near her sweetest poet's tomb, 
The land of Virgil gave thee room 
To lay thy flower with her perpetual bloom. 

I know that when the sky shut down 
Behind thee on the gleaming town, 
On Baige's baths and Posilippo's crown; 

And, through thy tears, the mocking day 
Burned Ischia's mountain-lines away, " 
And Capri melted in its sunny bay, — 

Through thy great farewell, sorrow shot 
The sharp pang of a bitter thought, — 
That slaves must tread around that holy spot. 

Thou knewest not the land was blest 
In giving thy beloved rest, 
Holding the fond hope closer to her breast ; 



HELEN RUTHVEN WATERSTON. 

That every sweet and saintly grave 

Was Freedom's prophecy, and gave 

The pledge of Heaven to sanctify and save. 

That pledge is answered. To thy ear 
The unchained city sends its cheer ; 
And, tuned to joy, the muffled bells of fear 

Ring Victor in. The land sits free 
And happy by the summer sea ; 
And Bourbon Naples now is Italy ! 

She smiles above her broken chain 
The languid smile that follows pain ; 
Stretching her cramped limbs to the sun again. 

Oh ! joy for all who hear her call, 
From Carnal doli's convent wall 
And Elmo's towers, to Freedom's carnival ! 

A new life breathes among her vines 
And olives, like the breath of pines 
Blown downward from the breezy Apennines. 

Lean, my friend ! to meet that breath ; 
Rejoice as one who witnesseth 
Beauty from ashes rise, and life from death ! 

Thy sorrow shall no more be pain : 
Its tears shall fall in sunlit rain, 
Writing the grave with flowers, — " Arisen again ! " 



